


Another Time, Another Place, Another Melody

by arachnidstardis



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Justice League/DC Universe plot points gratuitously used, M/M, Multi, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Polyamory, Sam and Bucky are in a blackrom relationship, Steven Universe References, Stucky Big Bang 2016, Tags and pairings updated as I go, Y'all are coming into my multifandom hell with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnidstardis/pseuds/arachnidstardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finally recovers Bucky, who has been fighting crime on the West Coast after escaping the Project Insight crash in DC, and they fall in with the Avengers in New York City.  The two of them can't stop stepping around each other, or the other Avengers, and after several disasters involving the Avengers, they discover that the United States has a plan for the Avengers....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Gay Ol' Time

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay it's been a while, huh? I've been watching a lot of Justice League Unlimited and decided that was a good plot for my Stucky Big Bang fic. (Not really but I lifted a lot of ideas from it, so if you like this, go watch that and let me know what you think). I'm going to try to update every couple of days till it's finished. Watch my other fics for more chapters too; I've been sitting on those and I miss them. Let me know what you think!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam do LA Pride.

“All I’m saying is that if I were a geriatric, brainwashed, recently un-amnesiac, PTSD-riddled super soldier on the run from multiple shady organizations and my World War Two best friend, I’m not sure I’d be in Los Angeles during Pride,” Sam said, fanning himself.  

Crowds cheered as cars, trucks, floats, and groups marched down the street, throwing candy and strings of plastic beads.  Drag queens expertly vogued in heels behind local LGBT groups and bands, and politicians and the King and Queen of Pride waved from convertibles.  The crowd was loud and raucous and drunken and occasionally half-naked, waving flags and kissing each other.  Everything was heavily sponsored and covered in rainbows.  Hollywood Pride was in full swing, and Sam was sweating right through his tank top.  

He was decked out in as much rainbow-plastered corporate swag as he and Steve could grab, including the paper TD Bank fan in his hand and the temporary tattoo hearts on his cheeks.  Steve and Sam had grown out their beards, and Steve had dyed his hair in attempts to look less like national icons.  Steve personally was also sporting a shirt that said “ _Let’s Get One Thing Straight: I’m Not!_ ” with the bisexual pride flag colors laid over the letters (In their hotel room, Sam had snorted at the shirt.  “Really trying to blend in, Rogers?” Steve had sighed and said, “It was a present from Tony when I came out to him. I couldn’t wear it as Cap or there’d be a media shitstorm.”  Sam chuckled at that and slapped him on the back).

Steve shrugged.   “Natasha said she had evidence he was around here.  I have no idea why; I doubt he wants to be around crowds, but we’ll see.” He waved the plastic flag he had picked up from the Hilton guy handing them out. “At any rate, we can have a gay old time here.” He smirked, and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“No one told me that Captain America was bisexual _or_ that he liked puns entirely too much.” Steve laughed and slung his arm around Sam’s shoulders.  He was about to reply when there was a loud boom a few blocks away.  People started screaming as smoke rose from one of the floats.  Steve started wading through the crowd, and Sam gave a long-suffering sigh and followed him.  

There were several police officers already surrounding the float that had exploded, which was a truck advertising a local real estate company.  The floats behind it were destroyed, and there were bleeding parade-goers fallen nearer to the truck, but no one seemed to have been fatally injured.  When Steve and Sam got to the truck, the occupants of the car in front of the truck had pulled out automatic weapons and were threatening the crowd and police.  

Steve grabbed Sam’s arm. “I don’t have my shield, it’s in the -” He was cut off as a man dressed in blue and yellow leaped down from the roof of one of the surrounding buildings.  He landed on top of the car and kicked one of the guns out of a terrorist’s hand with a booted foot in one motion, then turned to disarm the rest.  Within seconds, the guns were feet away from the car, and the man had pulled the four terrorists out of the car and thrown them at the police.  What remained of the crowd cheered.  The man waved one yellow-gloved hand awkwardly. He had a blue cowl not unlike Steve’s pulled over his head, but there was no “A” or wings on it.  The rest of his costume was almost gaudy, consisting of bright blue tactical armor, long yellow gloves and boots, and a yellow pocketed belt.  Police ran towards him, but he leaped from the car to the bombed out truck, then onto another roof and disappeared.  

Sam turned to Steve. “What the fuck.” Steve’s face had lit up and Sam swore he could see tiny stars sparkling in Steve’s eyes.

“Steve, that could definitely be another metahuman, it’s probably not him,” Sam said firmly.  Steve just turned back to Sam and grinned more.  

“Fine! You follow him, I’m going to try to find some water that hasn’t been sitting in the sun all afternoon.” Sam crossed his arms, fully intending to follow Steve, who hugged him and bounded off in the direction the man had gone.  He sighed, and started off after Steve at a jog, grumbling under his breath.  

 

**--**-----------------------------------**--**

 

Bucky stopped ten blocks away from the parade on the roof of a pizzeria and approached the exhaust fan that extended out from above the kitchen.  He pulled off his gloves, tactical gear, and boots, which reduced him to a black, form-fitting bodysuit, holey socks, and the cowl.  Placing the clothes on the ground, he glanced ata  black duffle bag he had left on the roof earlier.  Inside were a long-sleeve blue shirt, cargo shorts, and some beat-up sneakers, which he put on, and finally removed the cowl and put it in the bag.  He sighed and pulled out a smartphone, crouching next to the fan.  His appearance was already on the news, and people had connected it with his other appearances up and down the West Coast.  People knew who Nomad was now, making it an adequate cover.  Someone would have found him eventually if he was in hiding, but out in the open as a colorful hero he could track Hydra, and be able to do something about them publicly.  

 _Not that today’s attack was Hydra,_ he thought, stepping off the side of the building and landing in a squat.  There were plenty of assholes willing to kill for the sake of their hateful rhetoric, Hydra or not, and Bucky was finding that there were far more of the unaffiliated assholes than there were Hydra agents.  Pride was the perfect target after someone had shot up a gay bar on the East Coast last month, and he’d suited up for the last few days of events.  He put his phone back in his pocket and pulled out a hair tie, dropping the duffle on the ground to gather his hair into a bun.  Before he could pick the bag up, a tall guy in a t-shirt sporting a thick beard ran down the alley towards him and stopped, panting.  He looked at Bucky, eyes wide.  

“Buck?”  
The blood drained out of Bucky’s face.  It was Steve.  The same warm blue eyes under the same dark eyebrows, same ridiculous muscle mass and earnest voice.   _Fuck._ He picked up his bag and turned to run, but Steve spoke again.  

“Bucky, please.  Please don’t leave again.”

He’d been dodging Steve since DC, sifting through his memories as they rushed back and he put Nomad together.  Steve had nearly caught up with him three months ago in Dallas, and five before in Cleveland, but he’d been successfully dodging him since then.  He looked at Steve’s shirt and read it, realizing he must have seen him take down the terrorists in the parade.  

A black man holding two bags full of rainbow paraphernalia jogged up behind Steve, putting his hands on his knees and gasping.  “Rogers, would it kill you to slow down for the normal humans like me once in awhile?” He looked up and saw Bucky, and his eyes widened.  “Oh.  I see you found The Hunt for Bedhead October, then.”

Steve shot a glare at the man, and turned back to Bucky.  “Buck, just hear me out.  Please.”

Bucky looked at Steve unwaveringly.  He dropped the duffle again.  “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO HEY IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK!!!! As far as I know, Steve's shirt doesn't exist in bi pride colors, but I want him to be bi so whatever. Bucky has an updated version of the Nomad costume because the original was ridiculous. Steve Rogers and Jack Monroe (the second Bucky, comics are weird) both took on the mantle of Nomad at points in comic history, and I felt like Bucky would be a good fit to take on that role in this fic. See you whenever I post next (which will be soon!!)


	2. Superhero Roadtrip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is getting finished. Eventually. I'm a piece of shit, I know. Please bear with me.

“No.”  
“Buck, I promise, it’s secure. Natasha even lives there, and I know she and Clint have crawled all over every inch of the place.”  
Sam snorted. “Literally every inch. Barton fell out of the air vents into my room one night and scared the absolute shit out of me while I was watching TV. He told me he was checking for bugs and didn’t trust Tony. I don’t trust him to not fall out of my ceiling again, and I’m terrified to shower in my own goddamn home.” He shrugged. “He thinks it’s safe, though.”  
“I said, no.” Bucky crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly, tucked as far into the corner of the hotel couch as he could be without physically leaving it. Sam could see the muscles tensed in his shoulders and neck (although he at least had a sense of how clothing fit him, unlike Steve, who seemed to only own shirts that looked spray-painted on). His hair was still tucked into a bun, strands escaping it to frame his pale grey eyes and cheekbones.  
Steve sighed, moving his hands into his lap from where they had been slightly reached out towards Bucky a moment before. He shifted on the couch a cushion away from Bucky, and bit his lip. “I don’t want to leave you again,” he said quietly. “I already left you once when I should have come back for you.”  
There was silence for a moment, and then Bucky unfolded, leaning in towards Steve and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to leave you either.” They stared at each other. Another beat of silence passed.  
Sam shifted where he was sitting on the bed and coughed. “So. Is the Tower a yes, now?” Steve and Bucky jumped, the former more so than the latter, and looked at Sam wide-eyed, then back at each other. Steve’s eyebrows crinkled together more than a little pleadingly, and Bucky rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, fine. Yes.”  
Steve perked up immediately, eyes widening, head lifting. Bucky quickly held out a hand, palm facing Steve.  
“I have to vet it first, and I reserve the right to leave if it’s not safe enough for me.”  
Nodding quickly and grinning ear-to-ear, Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Thanks for giving it a chance, Buck.”  
“I have dibs on shotgun on the way back,” Sam said, stretching his arms over his head and checking the clock on the bedside table.  
Bucky glared at him. “So, I’m stuck in the back of the car, all the way from California to New York.”  
“Yes,” Sam said just as flatly. “I called dibs.” He crossed his arms and glared back at Bucky icily, trying not to smirk. “Also, you threw me off a flying boat. I feel like that makes us even.”  
Throwing his arms up into the air, Bucky kicked his feet out and leaned back, ending up with his head over the arm of the couch, one foot next to Steve’s thigh and one anchored on the ground. His boots left a slight grime print on the floor where they slid and on the fabric of the couch. Sam couldn’t help but feel like he should move his foot back off the couch. “Fine! But you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”  
Sam looked at the one bed that he and Steve had been sharing because they were both secure enough in their masculinity to do so, and glared back at Bucky’s prone form. “Fine.”  
“Should I be worried I made a mistake in introducing the two of you?” Steve grabbed one of his hands with the other, looking between his two friends with an eyebrow raised.  
“No,” Sam and Bucky both said at once, Bucky lifting his head to meet Sam’s glare.  
Steve stood up. “I’m going to go get food?” He dropped his hands to his sides, still frowning.  
“I saw a Chinese place at the end of the block that does delivery,” Sam said, breaking eye contact with Bucky.  
“Alright,” Steve said, and reached into his pocket to grab his phone. “What was the name?”

**--**-----------------------------------**--**

Steve sat in the middle of the backseat of the minivan Bucky had beelined to in the rental car parking lot, trying not to bounce up and down. Bucky was sitting right in front of him. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch his shoulder. In fact, he had several times the first few hours of this stretch of the trip. Each time, Bucky didn’t flinch, but his eyes flicked up in the rearview mirror from the road to meet Steve’s, and he’d lean imperceptibly into the touch before looking back at the cars ahead of him.  
Also, Bucky was driving, which Sam was not enjoying, if his white-knuckle grip on the door handle and center console every time the car switched lanes was anything to go by.  
“Man, you have a turn signal, use it!”  
“There’s plenty of space between us and the car behind us, Sam.”  
“The hell there is! We are going to get into an accident when the car behind us slams into us when you switch lanes so fast the van almost tips, and you and Steve are going to walk away just fine, and I will not because I am not a goddamn super soldier!”  
“You say that like you could do a better job.”  
“I absolutely could! Steve, tell him to pull over and let me drive.” Sam whirled around and looked at Steve expectantly, raising his eyebrows.  
They had just hit hour thirteen of the last leg of the trip, and were currently driving through central Pennsylvania, having chose to power through the last leg rather than spend another day in what Sam called “the goddamn minivan.” (Steve had to agree. It was a pretty awful car.) Rows of crops flew by under starlight, bleached grey by the van’s headlights and interrupted every so often by farmhouses and odd, regional billboards only visible for half a second. Bucky had taken over driving duty for that day after Steve had almost nodded off thirteen hours in on the second day, refusing to let anyone else behind the wheel. He had seemingly unending stamina, and was awake when Steve went to sleep and when he woke up. Steve knew he slept; when he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat he could turn and see Bucky’s chest slowly rise and fall until he slowly drifted back off, but in the morning, Bucky would already be up and out of bed, cleaning his guns or carefully inventorying the food that they had left for the rest of the drive. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch Bucky again, just to make sure he was there.  
Before he could respond to Sam, though, Bucky grunted. “No.”  
“You are going to kill us!” Sam half-shrieked, half whispered.  
Steve rolled his eyes.  
They made it to New York several hours later in one piece, Sam somehow able to fall asleep in the front seat despite his distaste for Bucky’s driving. Bucky drove the van underneath Stark Tower and all but dragged Steve and Sam up to Steve’s floor, shoving them each towards a bedroom and headed directly to the kitchen. Sam immediately passed out facedown on the bed in his room.


End file.
